


Your Own Body is Your Front-Row Seat

by Perkalil



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, blood tw, pstd and flashback tw, vomit tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22137199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perkalil/pseuds/Perkalil
Summary: Emma has a lot of baggage after the Apotheosis and has a hard time dealing with it.
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43





	Your Own Body is Your Front-Row Seat

**Author's Note:**

> It's a nightmare trope I wrote because I'm getting stuck on the sick fic companion piece I'm trying to finish. It's a little intense, I have trigger warnings for vomit, blood, PTSD, and flashbacks for a reason. Enjoy!

Thumping. Loud thumping like footsteps and a thunk of a door being shut too quickly. That’s what took her out of a lovely dream involving a mountain hike and sweet papaya. Emma woke with a groan, screwing her eyes shut against the light pouring in from the window. She finally had a morning off, so of course she forgets to close the blinds the night before. She tried to go back to sleep, she was nearly there anyway, but the light was insistent against her eyelids. With a huff, she threw back the sheets and sat up, cracking her eyes open to guide her out of bed. Her eyes flew open wide in shock at what she saw.

It wasn’t the window where the bright light was coming from, but the lamps around the room. Every single one had been turned on and left to cover the whole room in a bright glow. Emma ran her fingers through her hair to clear it away from her face as she turned to the alarm clock on her nightstand, checking the time. 6:24 AM. She groaned and got out of bed, flicking all of the lamps back off. The process took longer than she’d like, her leg was giving her hell for getting up so early when she should still be asleep in bed. The room was cast into darkness again, and she had to blink a few times to get her sight to adjust. Light pooled onto the floor underneath the closed bathroom door and Emma limped over to it, banging on the door with her fist.

“Hey, asshole, next time you feel like you have to turn on every lamp to get dressed for work, turn them off before you leave the room.” She spoke without any malice, although she was incredibly annoyed, she couldn’t really get mad at Paul. It was nearly 6:30, he was supposed to be out of the house by seven to pick up Melissa this week. When there was no answer behind the door, Emma hit the door again. “Paul? Babe, you might want to speed it up, or you won’t have time to eat.”

All she got in return was three knocks, a perfect triplet. Emma jerked away from the door, pulling her fist close to her chest. The three knocks came again, followed by more and more until it was an intricate pattern of knocks creating a beat. Emma felt her breathing pick up and she backed away from the door back onto the bed.

“Paul, don’t try to fuck with me this morning, man. It’s not funny.” The knocking suddenly stopped and Emma sat in the silence, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on, and whether or not she was imagining the knocking or not. A loud crash from the other side of the door brought her back to her feet. “Paul! Are you okay?!” Her hand found the doorknob and she twisted it, flinging the door open.

Paul lay flat on his face, clad in his work clothes but hair dripping wet and dark from the shower he must have taken. Water was all over the floor and his towel lay crumpled beside him. Emma crouched down next to him as best she could, her bad leg protesting. He must have slipped and fallen on the wet floor. She ran a hand through his hair, trying to get a reaction from him.

“Paul? Paul?! Oh my god, are you okay?” She tipped his head to the side to see if he had broken his nose and let out a shrill scream. His eyes were closed and fluttering, as if he was about to wake up any second. But what sent her into a panic was his broken nose, bent at a weird angle and dripping blue blood. She dropped his head and tried standing, but her bad leg had had enough and buckled under her, sending her crashing to the ground. Emma tried to push herself up and screamed again, catching sight of her hands. It wasn’t water that had darkened his hair, but more blue blood. The water on the floor had darkened into more blood, a deep navy that began to pulsate as ‘Paul’ started to regain consciousness. Her hands were covered in it now. She tried to get up and get out of the room, to get anywhere that wasn’t here. She dragged herself forward into their bedroom, trying to get to her nightstand where she knew her phone was charging. She had to call Schaffer, she had to call Hidgens, someone, _anyone_ who could help her.

Her bad leg flared in pain and Emma let out a choked scream. She turned her head to see if her thigh had caught on anything and saw Paul, eyes bright blue and glowing, holding onto her ankle and pulling her back to him.

“No! No, no no no no no nonono, Paul, please!” Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she pleaded with the alien in front of her.

“ _Emma we want you to join the party!_

 _Look at the fun we’re having already!_ ” Paul was glaring at her hungrily, and at the word ‘fun’ and jerked her sharply towards him triggering a wail of pain from Emma. She was close enough now that he could kill her, right on the floor of her bedroom. But he took his time, rising to his feet and tossing her on the bed. She was frozen in fear, and her leg was throbbing. She was fucked.

The Infected Paul leaned over her, pinning her wrists above her head with one of his hands. She whimpered and tried to look away, but Paul forced her to meet his eyes by grabbing her chin with his other hand. She tried clamping her mouth shut but Paul began singing once more and forced her jaw open. He began convulsing above her as blue shit came rising up his throat and Emma couldn’t stop screaming.

* * *

  
  


“Emma, Emma shh, babe, it’s okay, come back to me, Emma.” Emma jerked awake and felt herself trapped underneath something. She lashed out at whatever it was only to find her wrists were pinned above her head. She screamed and struggled against whatever was holding her down and felt the pressure release almost instantly. Emma struggled out of bed, her eyes darting around the dark room as she tried to find the alien holding her hostage. She spotted him on the bed, crawling across it to get closer to her.

“NO! You stay the fuck away from me!” She grabbed the lamp off of her nightstand and raised it threateningly. The alien didn’t say a word as it froze, raising his hands up defensively. She limped around the bed, keeping her back to the walls as she maneuvered herself to her bedroom door. Her breathing was uneven and her eyes darted between the alien on her bed and her phone, now very far from her. Fuck.

“Emma, it’s me.” The alien started talking, using Paul’s voice, and the lamp shook in her grip. “You were having a nightmare, you’re awake-”

“Don’t.” Her voice was shaking as hard as her hands, but it at least shut the alien fucker up. “Stop using his body, I know the truth. You’re one of them, you’re here to kill me. You killed Paul!” Emma’s voice cracked as she spoke her last sentence and she allowed herself one small sob. The alien moved slowly, his hands still held out in front of him, easing himself off the bed on the other side of the room. Emma waited with bated breath, trying to figure out what the Infected’s game plan was.

Simultaneously, the alien ran around the bed towards Emma, and Emma darted out of the bedroom into the hall. She tried slamming the door shut behind her but he caught it, flinging it back open. Her leg throbbed in protest as she ran as fast as she could through her house, abandoning the lamp in the living room to try and get the front door open. Before she could get the door unlocked Emma felt arms come around her waist and she screamed, the alien lifting her into the air to keep her from escaping. She kicked and clawed at the alien, refusing to go down without a fight.

“Emma, Emma hun, it’s okay. Babe, come back, you’re having another episode again. It’s okay, the apotheosis is over, we survived and we’re living in Hatchetfield. You’ve been having flashbacks and nightmares that get you thinking you’re back there. But you’re not, babe, let me help you get you back.” He continued talking to Emma until she began to calm down and come back to herself. Paul began to point out furniture or paintings in their living room to keep her focused, and after a while she pat his arm to signal she wanted to be put down. He set Emma down gently and she turned around to tuck her head into his chest. He wrapped his arms back around her comfortingly, resting his head on top of hers. “Are you back?”

All Emma could do was nod, stifling a yawn into Paul’s shirt. “‘M tired. Can we go back to bed?”

“Yeah, babe. Can you walk or do you need to be carried?” Emma wrapped her arms around Paul’s neck and he got the message, scooping her into his arms bridal style and walking back to their room. He settled her into the sheets that she had tangled herself in and lay next to her, reaching out his hand as an offering.

Emma took it, rolling on her side to face Paul in the darkness. “I hate when that happens. I feel like I have no control over myself when I get like that.”

“Yeah, it’s no fun.” Paul sighed, too tired to hide the bluntness of his answer. “But you’re back now, that’s all that matters.”

They lay in silence for a while longer, dawn beginning to break through the dreary Michigan clouds. As tired as she was, Emma couldn’t fall back asleep, her thoughts racing. She hated her episodes after nightmares, it was almost as if someone else took over her body and she had no say in what she did or said. And despite hearing him say countless times that he didn’t mind helping her come back, that that was what partners do, Emma felt guilty for putting Paul through all that. Night after night of hearing that he killed himself and that he was going to kill her too. Not to mention the bruises and scratches that she would inflict on him. She wasn’t good for him, she didn’t deserve a guy like him at her side. Guilt panged through her entire body and she looked over his frame. Paul’s eyes had slid shut, Emma was almost certain he had fallen back asleep. God, she loved him so much. She squeezed his hand with her own as her thoughts began to wander again.

“Em? You okay?” She flushed red as he peeked at her through half-shut eyes. All her worries and fears could wait another day; all she wanted now was Paul.

“Yeah, I’m okay, babe. You can go back to sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my word vomit, I just needed to get something out to try and clear the path for finishing my sickfic. I did some research about PTSD in order to finish this, but if anyone with knowledge catches something wrong please let me know, I do not want to misrepresent this condition. Let me know what you all thought, your support really fuels my spirit as I enter this next semester :)


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